Captivate
by Cyndy
Summary: Tavington/ Margaret Martin (she's 17 in this fic). What will happen when the colonel decides to visit the "sins" of the father on the daughter? Mild non-consensual themes. Tavington develops an unhealthy obsession with Margaret
1. Default Chapter

Title: Captivate

Rating: R

Author: Sev

Email: severuslucius@yahoo.com

Background: This story is based on The Patriot. I've played with Margaret's age since she is the "woman of the house" since her mother, Elizabeth, died of pneumonia. In this story, Margaret is 17. This takes place in 1776, two years after her older brother, Gabriel, has gone off to war. 

Summary: Tavington and Margaret have a fateful first meeting. What happens when he decided to take his anger out on the Ghost's daughter?

Warning: This is going to be an angsty dark fic. Although, Tavington is attractive, he is not a nice man. 

******************************************************************************

It was a lazy late summer evening at the Martin household. Benjamin Martin and his oldest daughter, Margaret, were seated on the front porch beside an oil lamp. Benjamin was reading his correspondence while Margaret worked on the mending. The boys were inside reading a letter from their older brother, Gabriel, who was a soldier in the Continental Army. Susan, the youngest child, was curled up at Margaret's feet. 

Susan hadn't spoken a word since their mother, Elizabeth, died of pneumonia. All of the Martins had tried everything from bribing the six-year old with sweets to threatening her with a switching but she never spoke. Margaret knew that Susan was an intelligent little girl but the death of their mother was simply too painful for her to bear. 

While Elizabeth's death impacted Susan emotionally, it impacted on Margaret in a more practical way. Margaret had become the "woman of the house" at age fourteen. She'd always helped her mother with the household duties but now she was in charge of the household. Abigail, their house keeper, had been a wonderful help and she had taught Margaret most of what she needed to know. However, it was a lot to manage. Margaret's days were filled with baking, cleaning, and cooking now. Her father even trusted her to keep the household accounts. 

Sometimes, Margaret resented the extra responsibility. Most of the young women her age, were engaged or married. They were moving into their own homes and setting up lives with their husbands. No matter how much work Margaret put into her father's house - it would always be his. She longed to have a space of her own but while the children were young that simply wasn't possible. Her father needed her help and Margaret was happy to give it. 

More often than not, Margaret was content with her lot in life. Ben Martin was a liberal man and she had a great deal more freedom here then a husband would allow her. Her father truly believed that both men and women were equal. He had considered his wife to be his partner in life, not his chattel. Elizabeth had been a school teacher before she married and she had collected a wealth of books. The Martins spent most nights in front of the hearth reading from one book or another. The family would then discuss what was read. Her father had continued the tradition and bought or borrowed books for them. 

His latest offering had been a pamphlet written by Thomas Paine entitled "Common Sense". They had eagerly read it and discussed the contents. It was no secret that the Martin household had patriotic leanings but their father refused to take up arms. Gabriel had gone off to war, though. They heard from him regularly and everyone remembered them in their prayers each night. 

Margaret hoped that her father would marry her aunt one day. She'd seen the way they looked at each other and she knew they had a real chance at happiness. It had taken her father a very long time to get over her mother's death, however. She wasn't positive that he'd fully recovered, yet. He usually visited her grave her day. She'd often hear him speaking to Elizabeth, telling her about the day's activities. While she admired his devotion, Margaret also her father to move on so that she, too, could move on. But she would never try to persuade him to do something he wasn't ready for. 

"Why are you so quiet this evening?" Ben asked kindly. 

Margaret looked up from her mending. "Just thinking, I suppose."

"About?" He narrowed his blue eyes in a teasing manner. "Hmm. .. I know. You're thinking about the Tanner boy."

"I am not, Father!" Margaret said, nearly stabbing her finger with the needle. Even though, she had been thinking about Justin Tanner a great deal, lately. They had talked briefly at the church picnic a few weeks ago and she had been surprised at how handsome he'd become. He'd just turned sixteen and was planning on joining the Continental Army at the end of the year. His father had asked him to stay until the harvest was brought in. 

"Then why are you blushing?"

"Because it's warm out here?" she said with a grin. 

"You know, Margaret, there is more to life than chores and your family. You're young and you should have gentleman callers. If you would-"

"Father, I'm not going to have any, anytime soon," Margaret said, losing her smile. "It just isn't the right time." Ben brought this up every so often. Margaret believed he felt guilty for keeping her here. "I-"

"Shhh," Benjamin said, standing up. Someone was walking towards the house but it was hard to see in the dim shadows. "Go inside. Get away from the windows," he ordered. 

Margaret did as she was told and gathered up Susan. She'd very rarely seen her father so upset. He was normally a very pleasant and affectionate man but, every so often, she saw another side to him. He had a fierce temper when provoked. Margaret had only seen it a couple of times but she steered clear of him when he was in that sort of mood. She'd long suspected that it had something to do with Fort Wilderness.

Her father had been a soldier in the French and Indian War. He was called a hero for his actions at the fort. Everywhere he went, men congratulated him and offered to buy him drinks. The children often begged him for the story but he had never bragged about his adventures to his family. Benjamin had said that it wasn't something children should hear. Margaret could detect the sadness in his eyes and see the regret on his face when he spoke about it. Whatever had happened at Fort Wilderness, had changed her father forever. 

Margaret pulled Thomas and the boys away from the window, when she heard her father's voice. "Margaret, get water and linen!" She hurriedly gathered up some rags and a basin of water that was kept in the kitchen. 

She bustled into the living room and found Gabriel in her father's arms. "What happened?!"

"He's been wounded," Benjamin gritted out at he laid his son down on the table.

"Gabriel? Are you all right?" Margaret said, placing the basin on the table beside his head. His coat was soaked through with blood and she could see a deep gash on his side. He'd been slit by a saber. 

"You're wounded!" Thomas exclaimed excitedly. To him, being a soldier was a lark. It was something that he and his friends had played at for years.

"Go upstairs," Ben ordered. "All of you," he said to the younger children. There was a chorus of groans and moans but they all filed upstairs. That left only Gabriel, Margaret, and Benjamin in the living room.

"It wasn't like Saratoga," Gabriel wheezed. "There, we stayed in the trees, but this time Gates marched us straight at the Redcoats. They fired two volleys into us and we broke like straw."

Margaret pressed a rag to the wound, to stem the flow of blood. Luckily, it wasn't too deep. 

"What are you doing all the way out here?" Ben asked.

"I was given these dispatches," Gabriel said, nodding to the case on the floor. "I saw Virginia Regulars surrender. As they laid down their weapons the British Green Dragoons rode into them and hacked them to bits... killed them all, over two hundred men," Gabriel finished, his face ashen. 

"They had surrendered?" Ben asked, appalled.

Gabriel nodded, wincing in pain. He brushed Margaret's hand aside as she tried to cleanse the wound. "I have to get these dispatches to Hillsboro." He tried to stand up.

"You're in no condition to ride," Ben contradicted. "Lay down." He placed a hand on his son's shoulder. 

"I can't stay here. It's not safe for any of you if I stay. I must get to-"

Just then, a large explosion was heard, uncomfortably close to the house. "It's not safe, regardless," Ben said grimly. "Margaret, take William and Susan down to the root cellar."

Margaret went upstairs to get the children. She could hear the terrible thunder made by the cannons as they fired and the shouts of men, borne on the wind, reached her ears. 

"Thomas!" Benjamin called. "Fetch the musket from my room and go to the back porch. Nathan! Samuel! Go to the side windows. Keep out of sight."

Benjamin closed his eyes briefly. He fervently hoped that the sins of the father would not be visited upon the sons. . .and the daughters. 

*********

That night, many of the wounded were carried to their home. They were laid out on the front porch and the lawn as there were far too many to put in beds. Gabriel was safely secreted away within the house. Ben, Thomas, and Margaret cared for both Continental and British soldiers. Margaret had been forced to tear up bedclothes in order to create more makeshift bandages. It was clear that far too many of the soldiers were mortally wounded. 

Margaret had long believed in the ideals of freedom but she had no idea that the cost would be so steep. Many of the soldiers were her age and they'd never get to see their families again. She wasn't prepared for the smells of a battle -- gun powder, bile, and blood. Her muslin dress was stained with blood and her arms ached from bandaging and moving the men. Her father had been right by her side the entire night. He, too, was weary and blood-spattered but he had remained detached from the whole affair. He could have just as easily been working on another of his failed rocking chairs.

Just as Margaret stood up to stretch, she saw a line of British troops break though the cornfield in the back. She moved closer to her father. Their weapons were raised and their faces were bleak as they approached her home. 

The soldier in front approached her father. "I'm Lieutenant Bradley. These men are of my regiment. Thank you for their care."

Ben relaxed visibly but said nothing. 

Lieutenant Bradley went on to speak with a few of his men. The rest of the men fanned out and took stock of the wounded. Margaret nervously watched as they made their way around the house. One of the soldiers ventured within and she bit her lip. 

Gabriel strode out the door, dressed in his army uniform.

Benjamin watched him sadly. He knew that the British would take Gabriel prisoner. "What are you doing out here?" he hissed. 

"My duty," Gabriel sniffed. It was a point of contention between the two men that Ben didn't choose to fight for his country.

A moment later, a British soldier marched out of the house. "Rebel dispatches, sir."

Gabriel stepped up to the lieutenant. "I carried those, sir. I was wounded, these people gave me care. They have nothing to do with the dispatches."

The lieutenant watched him very carefully, for any sign of dishonesty but nodded when he saw none. "I understand. You will be coming with us for questioning."

"Yes, sir," Gabriel said, nodding.

Just then, the thunderous sound of horse hooves against hard ground were heard. Margaret's face leeched of color. Gabriel had told them about these men. Coming down the street, were a group of infamous soldiers known as the Green Dragoons. Their leader, Colonel Tavington, was called "The Butcher" by the colonists because of his brutal tactics. 

Margaret was expecting to see a monster - a man so evil and degenerated that he barely resembled a human being. Instead, she was shocked to find a very handsome man at the head of the group. His eyes were brisk blue ovals that surveyed the scene with dispassion. The lieutenant hastened over to his horse and doffed his hat. 

"Lieutenant, have a detachment take the wounded to our surgeons at Camden crossing. Use whatever horses and wagons you can find here," Colonel Tavington ordered imperiously. 

Margaret felt herself bristle. The man commandeered their equipment and animals without so much as asking them. 

"Yes, sir" . He handed the dispatch case to Tavington. "We found this, sir." 

Tavington opened it and quickly scanned the contents. " Who carried these?"

Benjamin curbed the urge to step in front of his son as Gabriel walked forward. "I did."

Tavington sneered down at the young man. "You? Very well then." He turned to Bradley. "Take this one to Camden, he's a spy. He will be hung."

Margaret gasped, immediately going to Gabriel's side. Tavington noted the movement and rested his disturbing blue eyes on her for a moment. 

Ben stepped between Tavington and Gabriel. "Colonel, he's a dispatch rider and that's a marked dispatch case." 

Tavington ignored him and turned to the rest of the soldiers."Fire the house and barns. Send the slaves to Acworth. Leave the rest of the goods."

"And the Rebel wounded?" Lieutenant Bradley asked quietly. He was afraid he already knew what the answer was.

" Kill them."

Benjamin winced but he had more pressing concerns. "Colonel, a dispatch rider with a marked case cannot be held for spying."

"Well, we're not going to hold him, we're going to hang him," Tavington replied with a smirk.

"But..."

Tavington drew his pistol and pointed it at Margaret's father -- who didn't even flinch. 

"Father!" Margaret cried. 

Again, Tavington rested his eyes on her and raked them over her form in an overly familiar way. 

Gabriel tried to intercede. "Father... "

"Oh, he's your son," the colonel said sardonically. "Perhaps, you should have taught him about loyalty."

"And perhaps, yours should have taught you about mercy," Margaret said under her breath furiously. They had taken care of their men and allowed them to use their wagons and now he was going to destroy their home and kill Gabriel? The man was mad. When she looked up Tavington smiled at her -- a smile that made her want to run away. Had he heard her comment?

"Colonel, I beg you, please reconsider. By the rules of war, a dispatch rider with a marked case -"

"Would you like a lesson in the rules of war?" Tavington bit out. 

Ben didn't answer. He merely stared at Tavington coldly, taking his measure, waiting to see if he would have the guts to pull the trigger. 

Tavington walked his horse a couple of steps and shifted his aim to the children who were gathered in the doorway. "Or perhaps your children would."

Thomas gritted his teeth. The rest of the children were all huddled together, terrified. 

Benjamin stepped between the pistol and his children. "No lesson is necessary."

"Are you certain? I believe your daughter could use a lesson in the *realities* of war," he drawled, surveying Margaret once more. "That is a lesson I wouldn't mind teaching at all." 

It was well known that many British soldiers had "taken liberties" with women in New York and Massachusetts . There were reports of them doing door to door and abducting women and holding them in their camps. 

Margaret's eyes widened and she stepped behind Gabriel who scowled at the man. 

"No!" Benjamin shouted, before quieting his voice. "As I said, no lessons are necessary." 

"Father, do something," Thomas whispered but he was ignored.

"Lieutenant, delay my orders. I think we shall stay here for the night," Tavington said, sneering at Benjamin. "You shall quarter us for the evening."

"And the rebel wounded?" the other soldier asked.

"Take them out back and shoot them," Tavington said, tossing the reigns to a nearby private before he dismounted. "The stench of a rotting corpse can ruin a man's appetite." He started to step closer to Margaret when Gabriel put himself in Tavington's path. "Tie this one up and put a guard on him," he snapped, side-stepping Gabriel. 

Gabriel was dragged away by another soldier.

Margaret tried to move away but Tavington seized her arm. "And who might you be?"

"Margaret Martin," she whispered, looking at her father for help but he could offer none.

"Come with me," he demanded, pulling her along behind him.

"She's practically a child!" her father said angrily. 

The soldier manhandling Gabriel aimed a blow at his mid-section and the Continental soldier fell to the ground.

Ben followed after them to make sure Gabriel was all right.

"Not my child," Tavington said as he tugged her up the path to her home and then inside. The children all scattered when he approached. 

As soon as they left the room, he released her. She backed away, pressing against the wall as he smiled at her. "What do you want with me?"

Tavington's eyes were heavy-lidded. After being forced to bed prostitutes and loose women who followed their unit, he found the girl in front of him very enticing. Her big blue eyes were luminous and her face was innocent and open. She had blond hair that was primly tucked underneath a cap and wore a demure gown sprinkled with a floral pattern. Unfortunately, it was blood-spattered, not that blood bothered William Tavington in the least. He'd virtually been bathing in it since the start of the war. Most days ended with him covered in the sticky red substance . 

"I thought you and I could come to some sort of *arrangement*." William might have earned a reputation as a brutal soldier, but he was no raper of women. He wanted her compliance, even if it was coerced. 

"What kind of arrangement?" Margaret said woodenly.

"Well, let's see. I have something you want. Namely, your brother. You have something I want. Namely-"

"Me," Margaret croaked.

"And I thought all of you colonials were a dim-witted lot," Tavington replied wickedly. 

"You won't kill Gabriel?" she asked hopefully.

"No, I just won't kill him tonight." 

"But you weren't going to anyway!" she said fiercely. "You were going to take him to-"

"Unfortunately, he rushed me when I was attempting to transport him," Tavington fabricated, as if reporting to his commanding officer. " I was forced to kill him to defend myself."

"You're despicable," Margaret hissed. "No gentleman would-"

"Oh, but I *am* a gentleman," William contradicted, enjoying the spirit she'd shown. Bedding women who simply lay there beneath him was tedious." My grandfather was even knighted for his service to the crown."

Margaret heard gunfire and she shuddered as she realized that British soldiers had just shot the unarmed men she'd spent half the night caring for. It was all too much - the blood, the misery, and the hopelessness of it all got to her. She glared at the man before her, grateful to have a chance to vent her anger. 

"How dare you! I didn't sleep last night because I was up tending to your wounded. You take our servants. We graciously let you use our wagons to transport your men," she said sarcastically. "And, then you demand we quarter all of you for the evening. And how do you repay us? By threatening my brother and then trying to. . .force yourself on my person!"

Tavington didn't look upset in the least. He enjoyed the thrill of the chase and an elusive prey was as amusing as it was attractive. "Does your father let you speak to him this way?"

"You are not my father!" she snapped.

"But I am," Benjamin said, stepping into the house. "Go to your room, Margaret."

Margaret glanced briefly at Colonel Tavington before she scurried up the stairs. She didn't look back. 

"What were you discussing with my daughter?" he asked tightly. Ben had been side-tracked by the guards dragging Gabriel away. His son was tethered to a tree but otherwise unharmed. He needed to find a way out of this situation. 

Tavington smiled coldly, looking after the girl. While his military methods might be tolerated if not rewarded, what he'd been planning to do with the girl would have been considered bad form. If his superiors discovered what he'd been doing, they might even bust his rank. "What it means to be a gentleman. I simply informed her that I was one."

"And as such, I hope you will comport yourself as one while you are in my home."

"I always do," Tavington replied, pushing passed Martin on his way out the door. "Lieutenant! Have your men slaughter some of the livestock for dinner this evening." He paused as he shot a look up the staircase. "I plan to work up an appetite." 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Title: Captivate 2

Rating: R 

Author: Sev

Email: severuslucius@yahoo.com

Background: This story is based on The Patriot. I've played with Margaret's age since she is the "woman of the house" since her mother, Elizabeth, died of pneumonia. In this story, Margaret is 17. This takes place in 1776, two years after her older brother, Gabriel, has gone off to war. 

Summary: Tavington and Margaret have a fateful first meeting. What happens when he decides to take his anger out on the Ghost's daughter?

Warning: This is going to be an angsty dark fic. Although, Tavington is attractive, he is not a nice man. 

**************************************************************************************************

Margaret furiously kneaded yet another batch of biscuit dough. She'd spent the better part of the afternoon preparing food for the Green Dragoons. Margaret tried not to dwell the fact that she was being forced to entertain British troops or the fact that this much food would have fed them for at least two months. 

Most of the day had been spent on preparations. On Tavington's orders, the men had wrung the necks of ten of their chickens. Samuel and Susan had glumly agreed to pluck their feathers. Margaret had asked Thomas to make a large fire in the back field and place the spit over it so they could make roasted chicken for the soldiers. She'd set Samuel the task of turning the spit. Susan and Matthew had gone out to the barn and brought back some potatoes which Margaret had boiled. It was simple fare but Margaret knew the soldiers would find no complaint with it after subsisting on their meager rations for months. 

At least they only had to feed the Dragoons. Lieutenant Bradley and his men had departed nearly an hour ago with the wounded English soldiers. He'd looked at her sadly before he mounted his horse and rode off. Margaret only wished Tavington had the decency to be shamed by his actions. But he wasn't the least bit troubled. In fact, the man was now sitting on their front porch as though he were lord of the manor, drinking a mug of ale liberated from her father's private stores.

Ben had been alarmed by Tavington's interest in her and asked her to keep away from him. Not that Margaret had any desire to spend one more moment in the company of that odious man. She was grateful to get away from his watchful eyes and predatory interest. Ben had questioned her at length about Tavington's conversation and she'd omitted the part when he attempted to bargain with her for her brother's life. 

At the thought of Gabriel, her heart sank in her chest. Margaret peered out the window once more and saw her brother who was being guarded by two men. Gabriel was lashed to the tree by a thick rope and then men had their pistols trained on him, as if he were about to escape any moment. Margaret wished they could free him but that was impossible with all the Dragoons milling about the property. She fervently hoped that her father had a plan. She knew that he wasn't just going to sit back and let Gabriel hang.

The Martins didn't have enough tableware to feed such a large group of people, so only the officers would be at the table in the dining room. The enlisted men would eat outside, using their own knives and their hands, if need be. Susan set the table while Margaret placed the serving dishes on the table. The children would be eating in the sitting room at a table of their own, as was the custom during the infrequent parties their parents had held. 

Margaret stepped out onto the porch. Colonel Tavington and her father were engaging in chillingly polite social conversation about the weather and other matters of small importance. They were seated across from one another in rocking chairs her grandfather had made. Margaret's lips twitched when she imagined Tavington sitting on one her father had made. Captain Borden and Lieutenant Marshall were seated on the porch swing. They were silently observing the battle of wits and wills going on between the other men.

"Dinner is served," Margaret announced, speaking directly to her father. She turned to leave when Tavington's voice forestalled her.

"Allow me to escort you," he said, offering her his arm.

Ben's eyes blazed but he said nothing.

Margaret couldn't refuse without appearing churlish, so she reluctantly took the proffered arm. "Thank you, Colonel Tavington," she murmured politely in a tone that was anything but. 

Tavington was a tall, imposing man and Margaret was more than a little intimidated by him. She'd never allow him to see that, of course. So, Margaret held her head high and walked beside him to the dining room. Her father and the other two officers followed them inside.

Colonel Tavington grinned in response, correctly interpreting her thoughts. "I could think of quite a few ways I'd like you to 'thank me' that don't involve mere words," he murmured outrageously. 

While Margaret was an innocent well-bred young lady, she did understand what Tavington was insinuating even if she didn't understand the mechanics of it. She gritted her teeth and clenched her hand to keep from slapping him as he so richly deserved. Instead of gasping in outrage as he expected her to do, she smiled at him and spoke with honeyed venom. "I believe actions speak louder than words as well, Colonel Tavington, " she whispered. "Give me your gun and I'll show you." 

Tavington laughed delightedly. "You really aren't as dull as the rest of your countrymen."

Ben and the other two officers looked at them curiously but said nothing.

Margaret scowled, her ire rising by the minute. She intended to insult him but she merely amused him. "You are," she mumbled.

"I'll have to keep my wits about me." Tavington's cool blue eyes sparkled with suppressed mirth

For just a moment, Margaret was struck by his cruel beauty. It was really a pity he was so insufferable.

The colonel pulled out a chair for her. "Why don't you sit beside me?" It wasn't a request.

"Margaret will be having dinner in the sitting room with the rest of the *children*," Benjamin replied, emphasizing her age. He sat down at his seat at the head of the table.

Tavington gritted his teeth. He'd been trying to get the girl alone for hours. Unfortunately, Martin had dogged his steps like one of Cornwallis' bloody hounds and he hadn't been able to get anywhere near her. 

Margaret released a pent-up breath and sent her father a grateful smile. "Enjoy your dinner," she said as she moved to the doorway. 

"Nonsense. There is more than enough room at this table," Tavington said, gesturing to the empty chairs. "I'm sure my men don't mind," he skewered them with a look and they hastily nodded. "That's settled then." He gestured to the chair he was still holding out.

Once again, there was no polite way to refuse. Margaret smothered her anger and offered him a smile. "I believe I will join you for dinner but I'd prefer to sit by my father." She walked down to other end of the table and sat beside Benjamin who was beaming at her, impressed by her quick wit.

Tavington resolutely sat down at the opposite side of the table, narrowing his eyes as he noticed the by-play between the two Martins. The girl was really too clever for her own good. It was considered rude to speak to someone on the other end of the table because one is obliged to raise one's voice to unacceptable level to do so. Therefore, Tavington was forced to have a chat with Captain Borden instead. 

Tavington caught Margaret's eye during the meal and surveyed her with a deliberately hungry expression. Her cheeks filled with the most delightful rose color before she hastily looked away. She was, indeed, elusive prey but Tavington was an expert hunter. 

Margaret couldn't run from him forever. 

**********

After the meal was finished, Margaret took a plate out to Gabriel. She had stored back the choicest tidbits for her brother and kept them warm by the hearth. Margaret knew he wouldn't' be allowed to use utensils, lest he make them into makeshift weapons, so she had taken the liberty of cutting everything up into bite-sized portions. 

She gathered up a dinner napkin and a mug of the apple cider Gabriel favored as well.

Margaret exited the house via the back door and deliberately averted her eyes from the blood-soaked bodies of the Continental soldiers. She still couldn't believe that Tavington ordered the massacre on wounded, unarmed men. She passed by the British soldiers who were lounging on their back porch. They watched her with lustful eyes but made no move to accost her. Margaret shivered involuntarily as she walked by them. 

She approached the English soldiers who were guarding her brother cautiously They were both around Gabriel's age. One of them was fair with light blue eyes. The other had dark hair and eyes. 

Gabriel looked at her hopefully but said nothing.

The dark one warily lowered his weapon. "State your business."

"I've brought him some supper," Margaret answered, lifting the plate. 

The blond one came forward to inspect the plate and she handed it to him. "I haven't brought any utensils with me," she said stiffly.

The blond nodded and handed the plate back to her. "Carry on."

"Aren't you going to untie him?" Margaret asked.

Gabriel was tied to the tree by a length of rope around his bound wrists. 

"He's a prisoner, miss," the dark soldier replied. "You can feed it to him." 

Margaret looked at Gabriel sadly and mouthed. "I'm sorry."

Gabriel merely sat down beside the tree and motioned for her to join him.

It bothered her to see him like this. The Gabriel she knew would have argued for his temporary release or attempted to bargain with them. He had changed a great deal since the war began. The war had forced Gabriel into adulthood and beyond. His eyes held all the sadness of someone twice his age.

The soldiers backed away, giving them a modicum of privacy and she sat down beside him and placed the plate on her lap. Margaret held up the cider to his mouth and Gabriel took a large sip. 

"My favorite," he said as she brought the mug away. "You remembered."

"Of course I did," she said, her heart in her eyes. 

"Thank you, Maggie," he said hoarsely, emotion welling in his throat. 

She gave him a bittersweet smile at the sound of her childhood name. "I'm so sorry, Gabriel" she murmured. 

Gabriel sighed, trying to shake off the weight of the fear that gripped him. "It's my own fault, I suppose. Didn't father warn me about what would happen if ran off and played at being soldier?" His voice wavered when he spoke. 

"Do you regret it?" Margaret asked, bringing a bite of chicken to his lips.

Gabriel accepted the meat and swallowed it, using the time to gather his composure. He thought carefully before he answered. "Dying?" he asked rhetorically. "I'll wholeheartedly regret that," he replied with gallows humor. "But not the rest of it," he said, his eyes shining with pride. "I had to do this, Margaret."

Margaret reached out and squeezed his hand. "I'm glad you don't have many regrets." Her eyes filled with tears. "I love you, Gabriel."

"Well, isn't this a touching little tableau," Tavington drawled.

Margaret flinched as she heard that hated voice. She reluctantly released Gabriel's hand.

"And since when," Colonel Tavington asked as he strolled up to the soldiers, his ire rising, "do we permit prisoners to have guests?" His men nearly quivered in their boots. They tried to formulate a response but he didn't give the men a chance to respond. "Get out of my sight! I'll decide what to do with you two when we get back to camp."

Then men scurried away, eager to do his bidding.

"And find replacements for yourselves!" he shouted.

They each fired off a "yes, sir" before they ran off. 

Colonel Tavington towered over Margaret and Gabriel. "And what were we bringing to our dear brother?" he asked with wicked humor. Tavington snatched the plate from her lap and sneered down at Gabriel. "Ah, she cuts up your food for you," Tavington taunted. He deliberately tipped the plate, letting Gabriel's dinner splatter on the ground. "How clumsy of me." 

"You heard what my father said, he isn't a spy! He was carrying dispatches in his uniform with a marked case," Margaret contradicted with forced civility.

Tavington's grin chilled her to the bone but he didn't address her comment. Instead, he turned his attention to her brother. "What is your name?" he asked Gabriel tightly.

"Gabriel Martin, sir," her brother replied, moving a bit closer to his sister to shield her with his body.

"I see. Well, your sister and I had the most interesting conversation earlier today. Isn't that so Miss Martin?"

Margaret narrowed her eyes warily. "I didn't find it particularly interesting."

Amusement glistened in his eyes but he didn't even crack a smile. "If I recall correctly, you never did answer my question," Tavington continued deliberately. 

Margaret knew exactly what he was referring to. She couldn't believe he was intent on pursuing her right in front of a male relation. "I'm afraid I don't remember exactly what you're referring to," she fibbed, hoping to dissuade him.

"Really?" he asked, raising one raven brow. "I'd be delighted to give you a reminder." Tavington reached down and seized her elbow, hauling her up.

Margaret struggled in his grasp. "Unhand me this instant!"

"Let her go!" Gabriel shouted, struggling to his feet.

Tavington cooly withdrew his pistol, aiming between her brother's eyes. "If you wish to meet your maker sooner rather than later, I'd be happy to oblige you, boy."

"Please sit down, Gabriel. He isn't going to hurt me," Margaret pleaded, anxiously looking between the two men. 

Tavington smirked at the statement. Indeed, he didn't intend to harm her. What he was planning would be pleasurable for both of them. 

Two replacement soldiers came running up behind Tavington. They, too, withdrew their weapons. 

"Gabriel!" Margaret said, her voice rising with panic.

Gabriel's eyes simmered with growing hatred. He nonchalantly rested back against the tree, deliberately unconcerned. He didn't take his eyes off Tavington for a minute. In turn, the colonel's weapon followed his progress down to the ground. 

"Watch him!" Tavington ordered tersely before he turned on his heel, pulling Margaret behind him.

For her brother's sake, Margaret tolerated this indignity. The crowd of soldiers who had gathered to see the spectacle, parted before Colonel Tavington as if he were some sort of holy man. He led her up the stairs of the back porch and pushed her inside.

Once the back door closed behind them, she tried to pull away from me "Let go of me this instant!" Margaret hissed. 

Instead of releasing her, he pulled her inexorably closer - fitting her against his body. "Why should I?" he asked silkily.

"Because I asked you to!" Margaret said indignantly, shoving at his chest. At this moment she wished she knew some expletives to spout at him. 

Tavington's eyes shut momentarily at delicious sensations her struggles were causing. He cleared his throat before he spoke. "Ah, well, I don't always obey orders." His lips curved into a sensual smile. "Perhaps you should make it worth my while."

Margaret ceased her movements. "Are you certain?" she asked, a glint of malicious mischief in her eyes. 

His eyes fastened on her mouth. "Quite." Tavington swooped in to taste her lips. 

Margaret simultaneously brought her right foot down on his left. Hard. 

"Bloody hell!" Tavington gasped, letting go of her in his shock. He grabbed onto the wall to catch his balance. Then, he turned to her, his expression thunderous. "Why you little-"

Margaret didn't stick around to hear the rest. She ran up the back stairs for all she was worth. She began to wonder if angering a man such as Tavington was wise. 

The colonel loped up the stairs behind her. "Come here!" Even injured, he was faster than she was. Tavington easily caught her as she reached top stair. He caught her up in his arms and pushed her against the far wall. 

Margaret was breathing hard from both exertion and fear. "Must you bully everyone?"

Tavington's eyes were blazing with a curious mixture of lust and vexation. This girl got under his skin. He wasn't quite sure what it was about her that bothered him so. The way she flouted his authority? Her beauty? Perhaps it was because she wanted nothing to do with him. The camp followers were eager for his coin and the chance to sleep in an officer's tent. The simpering society misses at home were in search of a title, even if belonged to a penniless rakehell like himself. Whatever it was, Margaret Martin was a woman unlike any he'd ever known and, although he had no intention of forming any attachment her, he fully intended to enjoy her while he could. 

"Yes," he finally answered. "Why not? When I have power over everything I see?" To prove it, he brought one hand to the trembling expanse of her belly, just below her breasts. She was covered in a thin summer-weight gown and the heat of his hand was discernable through the fabric.

"No," Margaret contested quietly, deliberately ignoring his hand. "What you have is the illusion of power. That's what the British have never understood about us. You may be able to control some of our actions and our circumstances but you cannot control our minds. Brute force only reinforces our beliefs. It is the same with you, Colonel Tavington," she explained. "It would not be wise to push my family too far. You might not live to regret it," she said earnestly.

"Are you threatening me?" Tavington asked, dumbfounded.

"No, I'm merely giving you some advice," Margaret said with a sigh.

"If I were you, I'd take her up on it," Ben said carefully. He was standing against the other wall. 

Margaret had never seen him so angry. His eyes were boiling with suppressed rage. And, while his stance was casual, she had the impression of a barely leashed animal.

"Mr. Martin," Tavington called, removing his hand from her person and turning slightly. "Is there something you wanted?" 

Margaret hastily moved away from the soldier.

"No, but I know there's something *you* want," Ben returned.

Tavington gritted his teeth. The man had the most annoying habit of turning up when one least expected it. If he didn't know better, he'd swear he was a bloody ghost. Tavington knew he couldn't press his advantage with the Martin girl under the nose of her father. He doubted Cornwallis would go along with the seducing of young virgins in homes that had "offered" to quarter British troops. His superior was surprisingly dainty when it came to war and insisted on playing the gentleman even if it cost him victory. Tavington had no such scruples but he did have a strong desire to keep his current rank. 

"I just wanted to wish you daughter a good night's rest," Tavington said smoothly, bowing slightly to Margaret. "Sleep well, Miss Martin."

Margaret breathed a sigh of relief. "Goodnight, Colonel Tavington."

"Mr. Martin," Tavington said with a sneer as he passed the man. He paused a moment and looked back at Margaret with a sinful smile as he always did when he had an especially awful idea. "I'm loathe to impose on you anymore, Miss Martin, but I will need your bedroom tonight. Unfortunately, my men have already commandeered the children's rooms." The children were all sleeping in the sitting room with blankets. "You may have my room," Ben offered, watching the man carefully.

"How *kind* of you to offer," Tavington drawled. "But I really need hers." If Margaret was forced to sleep downstairs, he could arrange another late night visit which would hopefully have a better outcome. Besides, he rather liked the idea of being alone in her room with her things.

"Fine," Ben snapped, his control slipping a bit. "Margaret may stay in my room." 

Tavington looked like he would cheerfully strangle Benjamin Martin. "As you wish." His eyes rested on Margaret's for a moment. They were filled with sexual promise. Then, he turned on his heel and stalked away.

Benjamin reached for Margaret and pulled her into his arms. "Are you all right? Margaret, did he. . .?"

"No, Father," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. "He didn't harm me."

Bejamin closed his eyes and gave silent thanks. His world seemed to be unraveling. His home was filled with British soldiers. His son was in danger of being hanged. And the cause of all this mayhem was trying to force himself on his daughter. "If he comes near you again, I'll kill him," he said vehemently.

"Thank goodness he's leaving tomorrow," Margaret said. "Hopefully, without any bloodshed. But he's taking Gabriel with him," she said, her voice wavering.

Benjamin lifted her chin so they were eye to eye. "Let me worry about that. I swore to all of you when your mother died that we were a family and I wouldn't lose any more of you, do you remember that?"

Margaret nodded, tears gathering in her eyes. 

"I meant it," Benjamin said solemnly. His face softened as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. "I'll see to the children. Get ready for bed and go to my room. I don't want you anywhere near him."

Margaret nodded, swiping at her eyes as she drifted down the hallway.

"Margaret?" he called. She turned at the sound of his voice. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she replied, smiling at him. He always made her feel warm and safe. She brightened up a bit. Father would find a way out of this. He would make sure that nothing happened to them.

  
  



End file.
